


What Can Make Me Feel This Way?

by allineedisaquill



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Bisexual Pat (Ghosts TV 2019), Canon Gay Character, Dancing, Developing Relationship, Emotionally Repressed, Epiphanies, Feelings Realization, Gratuitous use of metaphors, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, Sexuality, The Captain is Gay (Ghosts TV 2019)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28063446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allineedisaquill/pseuds/allineedisaquill
Summary: The Captain and Pat talk from the sidelines of Sam and Clare's wedding reception, where the Captain follows the thread and connects the dots that have always evaded him. Then, after countless years of denying himself, the Captain finally dances.(Set during the final scenes of 2x06 "Perfect Day")
Relationships: The Captain/Pat (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128





	What Can Make Me Feel This Way?

**Author's Note:**

> Another that's been sitting unfinished in my drafts since S2 was released. I really wanted to explore, albeit briefly, how the Captain might internally piece together what it is he's felt all his life. I hope you enjoy it.

After a few minor hurdles, the wedding had gone as smoothly as it could have. The space looked amazing, if the Captain did say so himself, strings of lights twinkling and glowing in elegant waves. He overheard Sam’s father as he praised what they’d managed to do with the limited time and the Captain preened, shifting up the knot in his tie with a smug smile.

“Nothing a bit of hard work and coordination couldn’t achieve,” he said with a proud rock of his heels. 

The party started almost as soon as the service had come to a close, the brides keenly leading the way to the next room where a buffet spread was laid out and Mike had his decks ready to go. String lights were replaced with spotlights of garish blues and yellows that shone rapidly around a dark dance floor, but the Captain found he didn’t mind all that much. The people seemed content, and they had him to thank - at least partly. He’d let them have their fun this time around; it was no harm done.

“They seem happy,” said Pat, who appeared beside him. The younger man had his hands clasped behind his back until he freed one to shove up his glasses.

The Captain nodded, allowing his gaze to roam from Julian wildly swinging his arms on the dance floor to Thomas’s foal-like prancing around. Kitty was also amongst the crowd, stepping in time to the music with the skirt of her dress hitched up.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “though one of them is going to do themselves an injury if they carry on like that.”

Pat frowned in confusion until he followed his gaze, then he laughed and waved a hand. “Oh, not our lot, they’ll be fine. Being dead and that. No, I meant Sam and Clare. All’s well that ends well.” He smiled wide, incredibly pleased.

In as good a mood as he was, the Captain’s eyes picked out the happy couple amongst the throngs of enthusiastic dancers. He smiled when he saw how they held each other’s hands and jumped up and down, not a care for rhythm or tact. The edges of his moustache twitched ever upwards and he fought his usual urge to regain composure, allowing himself to share in the joy of the newlyweds.

He saw absolutely no reason to deny such a simple and beautiful thing.

“It was a successful service, all things considered,” he agreed finally.

“Good on ‘em,” Pat said. “Never thought I’d see the day when there’d be two brides. It’s lovely, innit?” 

The Captain had been momentarily distracted by the tapping of Pat’s foot to the music, but his words made him hum appreciatively. It _was_ lovely, and getting to throw himself into the preparation of the service made it all the more satisfying.

Pat went on, “I mean, it can sometimes feel like we’re stuck in our time, can’t it? But then you see something like this and you think, blimey, the world’s moved on. About bloody time, too.” His smile shifted to something solemn, reminiscent. “I had a few friends who would’ve loved to get married, but they couldn’t. Maybe they have now, who knows? I like to think so.”

The Captain’s eyebrows pulled together, like he was trying to chase a thought that just managed to evade him, a thread to lead him somewhere he’d never quite managed to get to. 

As soon as it was there, he shook it off again, aiming a smile and a nod down at Pat for good measure.

“Sorry, listen to me prattling on.” Pat admonished himself self-consciously. “You never said before, Cap, when we were discussing it. Did you ever marry?”

At that precise moment, Mike’s music screeched to a halt. It lasted only a moment before the resident DJ let out a muffled apology and got it going again, the dancing recommencing around the Captain and Pat like the Captain’s own mental gears hadn’t also come to an alarming stop.

There was the thread again, enticing him to take a hold and follow to wherever it led. It was funny, but it had made many an appearance before, throughout his existence on both the living plane and the dead. It brought with it a peculiar sense of familiarity and a vulnerability that set his world off-kilter for the moments it was there. It was an all-encompassing feeling, unmistakable yet so hard to pinpoint exactly.

His stomach would flutter, his cheeks would blaze, his skin would tingle. Almost like coming over suddenly ill, a step away from fainting, only to regain balance at the last moment. It always seemed to happen around the people he admired most: the first friend he made at boarding school, a few of his university friends as well, several superiors when he first joined the Army, and then his very capable second-in-command, Lt. Havers. Then there had been his first glimpse of Mike, the modern and impressive Second AD Adam, the builder chap…

The list went on, and the undercurrent they brought had always made him feel... _different_ , on the outskirts looking in at the rest of his peers who never seemed to be similarly afflicted by admiration and awe of their fellow man. Was he an anomaly? Was there something wrong with the way he saw them? Because his peers, they got on with their lives, married and had children, while all he ever ended up with was this elusive thread he never could make heads nor tails of.

He wondered if he’d ever fully understand. Sometimes, he felt like a mystery to himself, as though he were a locked chest of hidden truths and he didn’t know how to make the key.

“No, I didn’t,” the Captain said finally, distractedly, still half-lost in thought. “Not that it’s any of your concern, Patrick. I just never got around to it, that’s all. I was busy. With my career. And, er, other things. Yes.”

Pat gave him a funny look, lacking real concern and suspicion but definitely interested. “Oh right,” he said carefully, twiddling the ends of his scarf between his fingers. “I wasn’t judging, just wondering. The last thing our lot can do is judge _anyone_ on their relationships. Just look how my marriage turned out.” He laughed at himself with just a hint of strain.

The Captain felt uncomfortable and very hot around the collar, itching to defend and retreat. He knew it all too well, the knee-jerk reaction, an instinct he didn’t know when he’d learned. It was just there, ingrained as well as his military clock and precision. “Yes, well. As I said.” He cleared his throat.

“Besides,” Pat said breezily, “love comes in all shapes and sizes, dunnit? You never know, if I’d had the option back in the day, I might’ve ended up marrying one of my boyfriends.” Pat laughed to himself, blinking quickly. “Carol wouldn’t have ever cheated on me. I might have even avoided this,” he said, gesturing to the arrow through his neck.

The Captain never heard the latter half of Pat’s ramble. It was like fine china shattering, like the music skipping for a second time. His shock-addled brain caught on Pat’s casual admission that he’d been involved with _men_. Pat and men, romantically entangled. Sexually too, probably. _Good lord._ His grip on his swagger stick tightened, head turned in Pat’s direction with his mouth agape.

He stared until Pat met his eyes, and Pat took his turn to look uncomfortable. “Too much?” He asked tightly, worriedly. “Sorry. I thought with the wedding and everything else, you wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind?” The Captain asked, a furrow between his brows. _Everything else?_

Pat nodded. “I was tempted to mention it earlier when we were discussing married life, but it was a bit daunting in front of everyone, especially Lady B. You never really know how people will take it. It could get a bit tasty, sometimes, when I was alive. People didn’t understand being bisexual. I bet some still don’t.” He shrugged and looked to the floor. “I’m glad Fanny came around though, in the end. Small mercies.”

The Captain’s mouth felt dry. All around them, people danced and drank merrily without a worry, oblivious to how his world had shifted a full few degrees in a new direction. He tightened his hold on his stick even more, knuckles whitened, and twisted it a few times.

It was a nervous tick that Pat stole a glance at, recognising it instantly. “You _don’t_ mind, do you?” Pat asked slowly. “It’s just that—well. I always thought, but I didn’t want to assume…you know. That you’d understand, if you catch my drift?” After a moment, he quickly added, “Unless I’m totally mistaken, in which case ignore me and tell me to naff off.” It ended with a short, high-pitched laugh that seemed to echo even in the crowded room.

The Captain watched him in silent contemplation, the cogs of his brain whirring as he tried to catch up. He was _always_ trying to catch up, it seemed - with himself, his feelings, the world, and now Pat. Seriously, _Pat_ , the most predictable and dependable of the lot. How had Pat managed to throw him for a loop, of all people? Would wonders never cease?

This time, however, when the thread appeared, it did _not_ evade his grasp. He picked it up and followed it along his own timeline, replaying every memory over. Every too-long pause, every quiver of his chest, every inclination to be closer with whomever caught his attention. He felt himself glaze over, reliving everything as though it happened only yesterday. It was like an out-of-body experience, seeing his life through a fresh pair of eyes, a gaze that registered what he hadn’t until that point.

Fanny’s understanding, Pat’s confession, the celebration of love he’d aided… They alone would never have been enough to get the ball rolling, but they - along with Pat’s somewhat gentle and inoffensive assumption - proved to be the necessary catalyst to the overdue, stimulating long-buried emotion so that it might stir once again.

What _was_ the truth he’d locked away carefully? That his mere admiration had never just been that, but _more_ \- the same feelings other men reserved for the fairer sex? The whole time, his feelings of ostracisation and misplacement had a root, and he could finally see it when all was laid blunt and bare.

He was a soldier, a son, a wrangler of misfit ghosts. True, he was a leader, and so often a subpar one at that. He was desperate to fill the role he always had, to cling to what he knew, to the respect he’d always feared would otherwise never be his to claim.

Beneath it all, though, he was just a man with years of repression suddenly screaming to be over.

Everything culminated in that one moment of irrepressible understanding as the rest of the party went on around him, soundly unaware of his simultaneous crisis and epiphany.

When he made it to the present again, as the fog began to settle, he felt as though his poor knees were about to give out.

Whatever was written across his face must have been concerning enough to Pat, who touched the gentlest hand to his elbow. It brought him fully back.

“Cap? Everything alright?”

He blinked and took in Pat’s face. In a flash, he remembered guiding him off the bus that first day when Pat had been numb and dazed, remembered giving him a tour of the house and grounds as Pat barely said two words, and he remembered how useless he’d felt when he was unable to offer up a crumb of comfort. He’d wanted to reach out, the longing had been _there_ , but back then he was still far too many years away from ever being able to realise it, let alone act on the impulses that others did so freely.

“Fine,” the Captain rasped, like gravel. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m fine.”

Pat watched him carefully, eyes deep blue and full of the rapt attention and open care he regularly (and perhaps often undeservedly) afforded the group. “Sure? Felt like you drifted for a minute, there. You were miles away. Look, if I’ve crossed a line—”

“No.” It came out harder than he’d intended, taking himself by surprise. “I’m quite well, no need to fret. An occasion like this just jogs the memory, that’s all. You’ve mentioned your marriage several times in this conversation already, have you not?”

“Fair enough,” Pat conceded. 

The Captain hadn’t realised when Pat took his hand away from his elbow, but he missed it and _oh_ , how that didn’t bode well for him considering his very recent and very overwhelming personal realisations. It did not bode well for him _at all._

They returned to simply surveying the party-goers in silence, and the Captain returned to his thoughts.

He knew, albeit shakily, that what had always kept him so rigid and tightly-wound had the newfound potential to be spoken and acknowledged - to both himself and others - in this new world he was a part of without choice. He wasn’t sure he could voice it, not yet, and he didn’t even know what words he’d use if he could… Just thinking about it was so new, like pressing on a fresh bruise. Perhaps with a little time and a lot of talks with himself, what he once thought must be buried forever could become his to own.

Forever was, after all, such a very long time to deny himself.

“I don’t mind,” he managed finally, and his tongue felt heavy and foreign in his mouth. He met Pat’s expectant eyes and tried for a smile, though he worried it came off as more of a grimace. “Before, you asked if I mind. I don’t. Of course not.”

Pat’s face brightened. His smile must have been fine, or his words just true enough for his expression not to matter.

When the Captain thought back, Pat’s unsure ramblings clicked into place. He hadn’t wanted to assume, but he thought the Captain would understand… Good _God_ , there was a good chance Pat had known he was homosexual before he himself had, and for how long was anyone’s guess. He’d probably known the answer to the marriage question before he’d asked it, too. The Captain was just grateful the other man had never pressed him, not even once over the years. He’d allowed him his privacy. Small mercies, indeed.

The Captain wasn’t ready to broach it, though. He wasn’t there yet, and he didn’t know when he would be.

“Thank God for that,” Pat said, cutting through it all, then he turned wistful. “Yeah, just seeing Sam and Clare up there, tying the knot, it was great. Just hope their marriage is a more successful one than mine— Ah, there I go again.”

The Captain couldn’t help a small, private laugh. “Indeed,” the Captain agreed. “To the happy couple, yes? Shame we can’t raise a proper toast.”

Pat nodded. “Yeah it is, yeah. But we _can_ honour them by making the most of all this at least. I think it’s what they’d want.”

“What do you mean?” The Captain’s voice was slow and wary. When Pat only continued to beam at him, teeth protruding from beneath his moustache in a way the Captain determined to be charming, he sensed he was truly in for it.

“Well I don’t know about you, Cap,” Pat said, “but I’m pig sick of this lot having all the fun while I watch from the sidelines. So we’re going to join in. You and me, out there.” Pat pointed to the guests and ghosts alike. “And before you refuse, I won’t have you going off in a huff again because the music’s too loud. Let’s not have a repeat of last time, eh?”

The Captain began to shake his head vehemently. “Now, Patrick, no. I don’t think so.”

“Don’t be daft, you’ve earned it!” Pat waved him off. “It’ll feel good to let your hair down. Metaphorically speaking, obviously.”

“I’m afraid I, ah, I have something else that requires my immediate attention—” the Captain began insisting, only to be cut short when a warm hand took his free one and squeezed reassuringly.

His stomach fluttered. His cheeks blazed. His skin tingled.

“Fibber. I don’t think you do,” Pat told him with a sweet smile, and the weak feeling also returned to his knees tenfold. “I think it’s time the Captain danced, don’t you?”

 _Is it?_ The Captain thought. _Maybe so. Yes._

“Come on,” Pat said, and though he didn’t give the Captain much choice in the end, the Captain found he didn’t want to fight it. It was daunting as Pat put it, and he felt exposed as Pat practically dragged him out into the middle of the room, but his sure and unrelenting grip grounded him. Another thread to follow, another end he could pursue and discover. He wondered what would await him at the end of this one.

Pat tugged at his hand and wasted no time in moving to the music, twisting his hips and gesturing at the Captain’s comically awkward body where he stood. His small pulls succeeded in making the Captain move too, if a little stiffly.

“Come on, just let go!” Pat shouted.

The way he saw it, he had two choices: stand still and look a fool, or dance and _also_ look a fool. The only people who could judge him were making far bigger fools of _themselves_ as they threw their ghostly bodies about the room like rag dolls.

The Captain was free to dance, he realised. In fact, he was more free than he’d ever been, and that was quite the statement for a dead man.

Pat’s enthusiasm increased tenfold when the Captain began to move, _really_ move, limbs loose as though he felt no pain. All his phantom aches subsided for the time being as the bass thumped in his chest like a heartbeat and he could almost imagine he was alive, just for a while.

A smile bloomed on his face. Dancing was invigorating, he found, despite having no blood to get pumping through his veins. His confidence increased by the second, and soon he and Pat were weaving naturally between other dancing fools without a care. The Captain even passed by a few men and when he felt that previously unnamed stirring, he simply took it for what it was and let himself _feel_ it, something he never did when he was still flesh and blood.

To his continued surprise, he found himself actually disappointed when the song transitioned to something slower and smoother. 

“Ooh, I love this one,” Pat said, appearing at his side once again as couples paired off to slow-dance together to the number the Captain wasn’t familiar with. “The Temptations, 1964. Or was it 1965?” Pat hummed to himself in thought.

The Captain only half-listened. He saw Mary shyly approach Robin, and Thomas indulged Kitty with a dance too. In the distance, Alison found Mike and the pair exchanged a loving kiss before they embraced and swayed on the spot. Even Julian rocked solo with his eyes closed, miming the words.

He made a choice, bold and brave and so undeniably nerve-wracking.

“I don’t know about _you_ , Patrick, but I’m not quite ready to hang up my dancing shoes just yet.” The offer, whilst technically implied rather than voiced, hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity to the Captain. It could blow up in his face just like the bomb but it was too late and, quite frankly, he’d had a lifetime of missed chances.

He stared and waited.

Pat blinked, then smiled like the sun. “That’s more like it; the night is young!” He praised, then more tactile and gentle, he said, “Come on, then.” 

The second time Pat’s hand squeezed his was just as wonderful as the first. For a tiny fraction of a second, he wondered how Pat’s wife had ever wanted to let it go.

Pat guided his hands to the right places, a small act the Captain was grateful for because Lord knew, he hadn’t a clue himself. Then just like that, they began their dance, and he noted that Pat led surprisingly easily for someone of much a shorter stature.

Wonders truly would never cease.

The Captain found there was no possible way to shy away from the intimacy of the whole thing, bodies held as close as they were, but just like before, Pat was grounding. His easy smile melted the fear that kept his body slightly stiff, and he gradually eased into each step and turn.

“You did a really good job today, by the way. I don’t think I said, but the place looks bloody lovely,” Pat said as they moved as one, passing other couples that neither paid any mind to.

Pride filled the Captain up. “I always come through when the chips are down. You should know this by now, surely?”

“I’ll give you that. You’re a bossy bleeder, but we do need you. It really is like herding cats with them.” Pat leaned in closer, conspiratorially. “Between us both, I don’t know how we do it.”

“With difficulty,” the Captain said with a small smile. “It’s good to have a Skipper around to ease the load, however. A leader in your own right; your lads were lucky to have you.”

So close, the Captain couldn’t miss the bashful smile painted across Pat’s face if he tried. The shorter man looked up at him through brown lashes, the multi-coloured lights catching on his glasses. He was utterly captivating, and the Captain appreciated it openly for the first time.

“Nice of you to say,” Pat said, surprised.

“Yes, well. I’m known to be nice, sometimes.”

Pat’s eyes softened impossibly. “I know.” He squeezed the Captain’s hand and grinned. “Now come on, let’s see if you can lead a dance as well as you do a group of ghosts.”

The Captain laughed; leading a dance was by far the most simple thing he would face that evening.

Still, he would most certainly try.


End file.
